Bringing him back
by madeinfrance
Summary: "Lois feels herself nod again, eyes still fixed on the dark corner, and slowly starts to move towards it, heartbeat rising with each step. She doesn't quite know what she's feeling right now: fear, excitement, joy, sadness, confusion, more hapiness than she has probably ever known. All of the above. It barely feels real." Clark x Lois, Post-Dawn of Justice.
1. Chapter 1

"Are you sure?"

There's something close to worry in his tone, which is new to her. She looks up to see a slight frown on his face; next to him, Diana stands, arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her features.

Lois tries to do the same and to not give any of the emotions she's feeling away.

"I am."

The elevator stops, and before either of them can add anything, she heads out and towards Alfred's desk. _Breathe - just breathe._

"Good evening, Miss Lane."

"Hi, Alfred."

"Are you okay?", he asks softly before the others join them, and she smiles at him, nodding her head yes even if she's starting to feel sick. She's always liked Alfred.

As Bruce and Diana appear next to her, she searches the now familiar cave with her eyes, but before she even has to ask, Bruce points towards the far end of it, where two extra walls have recently been put up and now form a small room.

She nods again, and, not for the first time since they told her about the plan, asks about what hasn't stopped worrying her. "Is everything working as you planned? Isn't it too dangerous?"

As the words leave her mouth, she hears that her question could be interpretated as if she was asking about her own safety, which, franckly, she doesn't care about much right now. They must really have gotten the hang of her over the past year, though, because they understand.

Alfred speaks. "Everything is working so far, yes. You can go in, if you want."

"And don't forget what we've told you," Bruce adds with a knowing look.

Lois feels herself nod again, eyes still fixed on the dark corner, and slowly starts to move towards it, heartbeat rising with each step. She doesn't quiet know what she's feeling right now: fear, excitement, joy, sadness, confusion, more hapiness that she has probably ever known. All of the above.

It barely feels real.

Diana walks with her, and she doesn't wait, doesn't give them a reason to doubt her ability to do this, because what she really wouldn't be able to handle would be to be kept away from here. She nods for her to open the massive door.

"If you need us, just say it." With that, she opens it.

Lois doesn't know what she expected, or how she expected herself to react. As it turns out, the first thing she feels is a sudden urge to cry.

Mainly from relief, she thinks. She's not sure, but then again, it's not just one feeling, it's millions of them, all at once, each one more intense than the other, all of them assaulting her so violently she thinks she might collapse.

Surprisingly, she doesn't feel her eyes burn, though there's a lump in her throat she wills herself to control.

Ever since Bruce and Diana told her, Lois has been waiting for the moment where they would call her back and tell her it was a mistake, that they're sorry, but that's in the end, it's not true. Until the very last minute, she has waited to be told that what she has secretly been praying for all this time was, and would remain a dream.

But it's not, and here she is, looking into those beautiful blues eyes she thought she'd never see again.

For a second, Lois thinks she sees a confused frown on his face, but if she does, it's gone as soon as it appeared. He just stares, and all she can do is stare back.

He's here – Clark's here.

He died, and her entire world collapsed because he was – is, always will be – the love of her life, even if she didn't have the time to tell him on that terrible night in Gotham, an now he's here again. He's here, and yet Lois immediately knows that he's far, far away, because even if those are very similar, so similar it could fool almost everybody, these are not Clark's eyes.

His are warm, familiar, and, when he looks at her, always filled with love. It's cliché, she knows, but it's just true. Those, however – those eyes are cold, distant, angry, and she feels like crying, but this time for an entire different reason.

It's not the only thing that's different: his hair is slightly longer, his skin is paler than it used to be, he has a beard again. Even his costume has changed, the blue and red Krptonian outfit now entirely black.

Despite all that, what shocks her the most, and make her insides jump out, are his eyes.

Quickly shaking herself, Lois takes an imperceptible breath and pushes from the door, trying with all she has to fight back her first instinct and throw herself in his arms. She walks into the room, occupied by only a small bed, a table with some books and the latest Daily Planet on it, food and water, and a green plant – Alfred's touch, no doubt - hoping with all she has her legs won't give up on her.

They don't, and she goes to sit right in front of him. He's on the floor, so she drops her bag and sit there too, at the opposite end of the small space. So small, in fact, that if they both stretch out their legs, they'd touch.

"I thought the Batman would at least make me the honor of interrogating me himself", he finally says.

Lois represses the chill going down her spine at the sound of his voice. She thinks she didn't realized how much she missed it until now.

She manages, though, and is proud of herself when her voice comes out relatively normal. Not that he'd know the difference, apparently.

"Who says I'm here to interrogate you?"

He looks up again at that, expression unreadable. It's a first – his emotions are usually written on his face, and she can read him like an open book.

"Does it hurt?", she motions her head around the walls incrustated in Kryptonite, and tries to hid her worry.

"Why do you care?", and Lois tries not to flinch at the hardness in his voice.

"Well, I wouldn't have ask if I didn't, would I?"

He stares again, as if trying to asses her. Her heart sinks a bit when he doesn't trust her enough to answer.

"Why are you here?"

"To talk to you."

"What do you want?"

"I just told you. And slow down, here, Superman; I'm usually the one asking questions." She smiles at his confused frown – the same one he had whenever she would tell him about one of her improbable invetigations away, she can't help but notice. "I'm a reporter."

"Is that what this is? He wants to let the world to know he has me?"

Anger, coldness, mépris : Lois has never heard him like that. Bruce's words come rushing back to her, and she desperatly clings to them: _"It's not him. Whoever you're going to see, remember it's not really Clark."_

At this moment, she realizes how much she'd hope he was wrong - how much she'd hope that with her, he will be.

She closes her eyes for just a second, taking a shaky breath, before looking up at him. Fine, then. If he doesn't remember her, she'll just have to make him.

If he notices her small moment of weakness, he doesn't say anything.

"I'm not here to write anything." Lois hesitates for a second, but decides to opt for honesty: after all, he had been honest with her when they first properly met, that day in Smallville's cemetery, and every day ever since.

Maybe if she was with him, too, they had a chance.

"My name's Lois Lane. And although I'm not here to write about you, I'm a reporter at the Daily Planet – and so are you."

"Your friends already tried that, miss Lane", but she swears there's something in his eyes at her words. She doesn't know what it is, but he's trying to hide it, and that sends hope in every one of her cells, and gives her the courage to keep going.

"Well, it's true. As much as you'd like to think you're just Darkseid's killing machine, you're not – not at all."

* * *

"Are you - "

"I'm fine. I have to go."

* * *

When she comes back the next day after leaving the Planet, Bruce isn't there. Neither is Diana, or Barry - just Alfred.

"Good afternoon, Miss Lane."

"Hey. How is he?"

"He's good – well, physically, at least. The Kryptonite is still doing its work, but not so much that he's in danger." He looks away from the computers, and smiles at her. "To be honest, we didn't think you'll be back so soon."

She frowns. "Well, we need to bring him back as soon as we can; I can't do that if I show up once a week."

"Of course. But after yesterday, Master Wayne thought you'd need a little...time. Which would be understandable.

"I know", she whispers, trying not to give in to the trust he inspires and start babbling about how much harder than she thought it would be this actually is. "But he needs me – even if he doesn't know it yet." She looks down, catches herself playing with her ring again. _And I need him, too_ , she doesn't say.

Alfred just smiles, his face showing the same sincere compassion she saw more than a year ago, when he offered his condoleances to her in Smallville, even though they had never met.

"Very well, then. Door unlocked: you can go, Miss Lane."

He's right where she left him the day before – not that he could go very far, but at least he can move around in the room, which she's grateful to Bruce for.

His face is more pale than she remembers, and an unpleasant feeling makes its way to the pit of her stomach. Being exposed to Kryptonite can't be good, as calculated as the doses have been, and she hates to see him like that.

She knows it's the only way, though. For what they know, being away from that universe destroyer, or whatever he is, is the only thing that has a chance to weaken his influence on him, and with the brainwash he's experiencing, force is the only way to keep him here.

All she hopes is that she can bring him back fast enough so he doesn't have to bear this much longer.

"Hey."

Her greeting isn't met with an answer - not that she expected any - and she sits, her body aline with his, but at the other side of the room. He looks up, and she smiles. Even if it's not really him per say yet, she can't help it: he's here, alive, and

Yesterday was harder than she'd imagined. The expectations she had that had been crushed, the overwhelming feeling of finally, _finally_ seeing him again, only to discover it truly wasn't him – it was too much.

But she can't let any of that affect her. He needs her, and she's going to be here, just like he has always been for her – she's going to bring him back.

When they first told her he was back, Lois thought she'd have to fight to get to see him, with him being potentially dangerous to her, but for some reason, Bruce had actually come to get her exactly for that. He seemed and still seems confident that if something, someone could help Clark Kent, it would be her. She didn't know where the certainty behind his eyes came from: maybe he knew just how close they were, maybe there was something else.

She didn't care. All she cared about was that she was near him - even if right now, _he_ didn't care much for it.

"Did any of them come to see you?" Again, no answer. _Oh come on, Kent_. "Cat got your tongue?"

It almost looks like he's pouting now, and Lois suddenly wants to laugh. She tries not to, but a small chuckle escapes her, and he glares at her.

She wants to tell him he looks cute, but she figures it may not be the best idea, if she really wants him to talk.

"Look Clark, whether you like it or not, I'm going to be here, okay? Everyday. So you might as well talk to me - it's not like you have better things to do, anyway."

He glares again, and she tries not to laugh again.

Clark really must be in here somewhere, because that day, he demonstrates the same kind of stubborness he occasionnaly did before, and doesn't speak a single word.

"Stubborn" is _her_ middle name, though, and she doesn't let it discourage her: for two and a half hours, she fills in the conversation, talking to him about how her day went, how her current article is going, and how Perry almost made one of the board's member cry. At one point, she thinks he wishes to die just so he doesn't have to hear her anymore, but she goes on and on, only stopping when Diana comes to get her.

"See you tomorrow, Smallville."

* * *

He gives her the silent treatment for four days.

She's seen Clark pouts before, but never this long, and sometimes when she looks up, she still feels like laughing. She thinks he catches her, one day, and he looks at her suspiciously, eyesbrows furrowing.

Silence or not, she keeps talking anyway.

* * *

"Persistent, aren't you?"

"You have no idea. Well, actually you have: you just don't remember."

He rolls his eyes, and she smirks: in a week, he'd gone from anger to annoyment. _That_ was progress.

"Right."

"I'm glad to see you're talking again, though", she says, taking her usual place in front of him. "I mean, I love giving you an exclusive look into that glorious life of mine, but my mouth does get dry."

"I didn't say I was willing to have a conversation, Miss Lane," and it's interesting to see that, even brainwashed, he still has the same politness/good maners that characterize him.

"Oh come on, admit it: you're getting bored of the all silence thing."

He glares, and she knows she's right.

"It's up to you. But as I said, I'm coming anyway, and I'm pretty sure the other ones aren't that enclin to chat with you – and vice versa."

"And you're different because?"

"I don't know – am I?"

Lois tries to keep appearing detached as he looks at her in the eyes, but she's holding her breath. She knows full well it's not going to be that easy, that he's not suddenly going to remember everything in the blink of an eye, but maybe, just maybe, there's something there.

He doesn't say anything, and Lois tries to pretend it's better than him telling her straight away that she isn't different in any way.

"If you don't want informations from me, what do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know," she shrugs. "Whatever you want."

"You want to make me remember, don't you? About Clark?"

Her heart skips a bit. "You remember your name?"

"You call me that sometimes," and the hope that had risen up in less than a second morphed into a painful ache just as quick. "That, or Smallville, for some reason." The fact that he doesn't tease her, which is what he usually does when she has her "disappointed reporter face", doesn't help. She settles back against the wall.

"Oh."

He brings one knee to his chest, ans rests his arm there.

"And what if I am?"

"What?"

"Trying to bring you back, I mean. Would that really be that terrible?", and he frowns. "Why are you listening to that Darkseid? Do you even know?"

"It's -" He looks even more confused, and she watches him struggle much as he did so many times before. "This is not my world," he finally says, irritated.

She doesn't want to pick a fight with him, and simply shrugs, even if inside, she's screaming that it is, and that he belongs here. Geetting a hold of her emotions, she smiles, focusing on the fact that she just hit a sensitive spot, and that it's probably because deep down, he knows something's not right.

"Well, you didn't always think that."

He looks up at that, and her lips quirks up a little more at the memory of nights of him telling her about his life, and at him. She missed those eyes so much.

She takes his silence as her queue to continue. "You didn't feel in your place, growing up; didn't feel like you fitted in. People in Smallville – where you grow up – kinda knew about your powers, and they were scared of you, and didn't have the best attitude about it."

She tries to manage her frown, a slight anger rising as it always did whenever she talked or heard about it. Clark had told him stories, so did Martha, and she still couldn't get over how people could be so mean to such a sweet and innocent boy.

"Anyway, at some point, your parents told you the truth," and there's a warm feeling in her stomach when she sees he's really listening. "That they found you on a spaceship in their field when you were just a newborn. That they didn't say anything to anybody, because they didn't want people to hurt you, do research on you."

She can see the thought of humans, that he had probably painted out as devils and ennemies, taking care of him disturbs him.

"So, after you graduated, you went to look: for your origins, your family. All the while keeping people around you safe – that's actually how I find you, after you saved my life, but that's an whole other story," she rolls her eyes, smiling a little at the memory of his gigantic frame appearing behind her in Smallville's cemetery. "You did find out, eventually: you were from Krypton, your parents sent you here to protect you. And you accepted that, as hard as it could be sometimes, but - "

She shrugs matter of factly, because there's not much else to do. "But you always considered this world as yours. I mean, you had doubts, but it was mostly because you were afraid to be rejected, because of the look of others, but in the end – You grew up here, Clark. That's all you've ever known, where all the people you love and that love you are. You're one of us, and if I'm being honest, you're the most human person I've ever met."

She's gone too far, she realises, and she has to look away. She hasn't meant to let herself get carried away, but -

"Anyway. The point is, you considered this to be your world." _Considered_ me _to be your world._ "This is actually one of the last things you've said before you...before you died,", she admits quietly. Shock briefly registers on his face. She sees it, but pretends like she doesn't. "And you were right to, because it is."

They fall silent for a while, and she gets herself together. Again, it's not exactly easy, but this time, she doesn't want to let herself get overwhelmed and run for the door.

She's strong, always has been, and if there's a time to show it, it's now. For Clark.

So she just smiles at him, eyes shining with a few unshed tears she refuses to let fall, and keeps talking.

* * *

The next few days are pretty much the same, almost breakdown excluded. She tells him about what's happening out there, but most importantly, about the amazing and oh so loveable Clark Kent.

Now that she knows that he wouldn't take it as her trying to push him, and that he'd actually listen, she feels more free, and tells him about his chilhood, his parents, his work, his life. And he listens; she doesn't know if because he's genuiely intruged, because he's starting to feel and accept that the whole situation is strange or because he just wants to be nice because she got emotional, but he does.

He still acts, _is_ painfully distant – but Clark listens.

* * *

Lois is pretty sure Perry is probably going to hire a private detective, at that point: everytime time she leaves at precisely 7pm and not a single minute – or a few hours - after, as usual, he looks more and more suspicious, his eyebrows getting closer to each other every day.

It's actually pretty funny, at one point, and she just waves at him and smiles, an all too innocent smile on her face just to piss him off as she gathers her things and leaves the Planet.

The situation is not ideal – pretty damn far from it, even.

She's reminded of that every time she passes by Alfred computers, tiredlessly looking for Darkseid, every time she walks in on one of Bruce and Diana's serious and worried conversations, every time Clark looks up at her when she walks in, and doesn't smile.

The situation is far from ideal, but she gets to see him every day again, alive and physically okay, and that's everything.

Turning the engine on, Lois takes a deep breath, and heads for the Wayne Manor.

* * *

Another few days pass. Alfred's still thoughtful, doing all he can to keep their prisoner as comfortable as he can with small attentions. Diana is always between two planes as she tracks Darkseid all over the world. Bruce sometimes goes with her, worry increasing by the day.

Lois' more focused and determined than she'd ever been – which, for her, is saying something.

They're making progress. There's nothing concrete, not necessarily a specific thing that makes her say that he's starting to remember, or that Darkseid grip on him is weakening, but she can feel it. It's in the way he talks to her, his body language, his eyes – he may not remember much, or anything, but he's more and more comfortable with her, and she doesn't intend on stopping here.

She has faith – they'll make it.

* * *

He looks blanky up at her, and Lois just raises her eyebrows at him. "It doesn't bite, you know."

With a roll of his eyes, he takes it, and she goes to sit in her spot, smiling.

"They told me you didn't want to eat anything," she starts as an explication, "and apparently you really don't need to, but you love those, so."

Frowning, he hesitates for a second, then nods at her. "Thanks."

She's so shocked she stops mid-movement to put her hair behind her ear. Fortunately, he's not looking, and she catches herself and closes her mouth just in time. "You're welcome."

"Did you make it?"

She snorts, and he frowns adorably. "God no. They're from the café next to our apartment: best brownies in town. I can't cook to save my life; I can't even make coffee. I tried once, and I swear, you almost cried."

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh yeah. Although to be honest, you're really picky when it comes to coffee."

He smiles a little and takes a bite, and she rests her head on the wall behind her, butterflies wild in her stomach as she watches him.

"Wow...Looks like you finally did it, Smallville."

"Did what?"

"Smile. Not that I'm complaining."

He looks at her, and she feels the familiar urge to go touch him. She settles for smiling, too.

"Yeah, well, this is really good," and she doesn't know if he's joking or not. He seems to hesitate, then looks up at her again. "And you're more friendly than the others. Although the older man is quiet polite with me."

She laughs at that. "Yeah, apart from Alfred, they're not exactly the social type. But they're actually not that bad – they just don't know how to talk to you, I guess."

"So that's why they send you here? To do the dirty work and talk to the alien so they're sure he doesn't go insane?" His words seem harsh, but oddly, there's no bitterness in his tone, no resentment.

Another little thing she can hold on to.

"First of all, nobody's making me do anything: I'm here because I want to be. And I guess that I'm the one who knows you best, except maybe your mother, so there's no need for them to come. Especially since you don't necessarily look like you want them to", she smirks.

"Black metal slash leather is always sulking."

"You're one to talk," she teases, chuckling, making a mental note to write down this nickname. She thinks he starts pouting, but he gets over it.

"In my defense, it's not exactly fun being dragged down against your will to what can only be described as a Batcave."

She chuckles. "True. And between you and me, I think this is _actually_ what he calls it," and Clark smiles again. A mocking, amused smirk. God, how she missed that.

"This is really good, by the way", he gestures towards his brownie. "Thanks again."

"Sure."

"So: what else did I like?"

For the second time that day, Lois is so surprised it's a good thing she's already sitting down. She knows they're doing better, but him actually asking about his life...She feels a wide smile grow on her face despite herself, and she tries to tone it down.

She's pretty sure she fails. He smiles softly, too, and her heart is pounding so hard in her chest it would be embarassing if she cared at all.

But, right now, she only cares about the handsome man in front of her, and this familiar, beautiful smile that she finally get to see again.

"Well, let's see...You liked football – like, a _lot_ ", she rolls her eyes playfully. "Your farm in Smallville, Plato, and reading in general. Flying." She hesitates, as always when approching that particular topic. "Taking me flying. Your dog, of course. Beer, especially Guinness. To collapse on the couch on Fridays, like, literally head first. Oh, and you don't have to wear the glasses on weekends or at home, and you love that. Like you're not hidding or anything because, well, you're not."

"Glasses?"

"Yeah, you wear them when you're in public or at work so people won't recognize you."

"And this actually works?"

"I know, right? It's unbelievable. **"**

She chuckles, crossing her legs in front of her. They're silent for a few seconds, and when she looks back up he's looking at her.

"We seem really close."

This time, she's the one who's not ready to get into this.

And even if she were, what could she tell him? That yes, they were, that neither of them had ever been this close to anyone before? That's she's never loved anyone this much before? That he's her entire life, and that it hurts a little more each day she doesn't wake up next to him?

He's not ready for that, and she neither is she. So, Lois just ignores the lump in her throat and tries to smile, shoulders going up to let him know it's true.

"Was I annoying?"

"What?"

"From what I understand, we lived together, right? There must have been things that I did that annoyed you."

She chuckles at that, and when he smiles a little, she wonders if he asked that on purpose to make her feel better.

"You were alright", Lois smiles. "I mean, you did leave your cape _everywhere_ , and seemed to think the place for dirty clothes was the freaking floor, but you did all the cooking, so."

"It looked like I didn't have much choice," he teases, and she's so glad she has trouble putting up a convincing glare.

"You didn't, no. But in my defense, you were amazing at it."

"Was I?"

"Oh yeah - your mother taught you very well, trust me."

His face suddenly falls a little, and she's terrified she just said something wrong, and that he's going to close up again. He doesn't, though; instead, he looks shy, almost hesitant to speak. "About her...I was wondering: could you tell me a bit more about them? Her and my father, I mean."

"Yeah," she manages, and a smalll smile makes her way on her face. "Yeah, of course. Well...As I said, they were very protective, and you were very close to them. I uh – I brought a picture, actually. I had it for some time now," she adds at his surprised look. "I was just waiting for you to bring it up - I didn't want to push you."

For the first time since their meeting in that Canadian cold cave, she's slightly afraid of him as she gets up. It only last for a second, though.

It's Clark. Whatever hold that Darseid has on him, he's still Clark – and Clark would rather die than hurt her.

The few seconds he takes to reach up and take the picture from her feels like an eternity, and she smiles inwardly when he finally does. She wants to sit next to him, or at least, not back away.

She hasn't been this close to him for months, and her entire body is reacting, from her racing betraying heart to the goosebumbs rising on her arms.

She doesn't want to push him, though, and walks backwards towards her wall. One step at a time.

She watches him stare. "His name's Jonathan, and hers is Martha – Kent. And uh, that's your family dog, Rudd", her words rush as her fingers unconscously play with her jacket. Nervous, all of the sudden. "You adored him, from what I've been told; he was your best friend. And that's you, in the middle - obvisouly: Clark Kent, six year-old."

For a moment, she thinks he has forgotten she's here.

She doesn't want to say this, because back then, everytime they talked about Jonathan Kent, he had his look on his face/ sadness, guilt, regret - a look she's never really been able to make go away. But he needs to know, and Lois knows that.

"Your mom's still in Kansas, but your dad died when you were twenty-two."

His eyes don't leave the picture. She can't see his hold on the picture getting a little harder, but apart from that, he simply nods, more to himself than to her. For a second, Lois feels like she ust confirmed something he already knew, and hoped wasn't true.

She doesn't have time to ask him about it, though, because he shakes himself, and looks back at her. He's not angry, or at least she doesn't think so, but one look at him lets her know the subject is closed for now.

"Actually, I changed my mind. Can we talk about something else?"

She's a little surprised he doesn't tear the photograph apart, or yell, or simply tells her to leave. Instead, he just puts the picture next to him and actually presses her for another subject.

She feels more hope and relief she had for a very, very long time.

"Of course. Something in particular?"

He shrugs, and the more casual movments like this he makes, the more human he looks – human, what he's always been, and not some anger driven monster that Darkseid wants him to be.

"I don't know – what about you?"

It takes her two seconds longer than it should to answer, and when she does, it's high pitched and ridiculous."Me?"

"Yes, you." She thinks she sees the ghost of an amused smirk, but it's more likely her imagination.

"Okay...Well, I'm a reporter, but I've already said that. I mostly do investigations on subjects that I want to investigate, even when our redactor doesn't, which drives him mad – although to be honest, he does publish it everytime, so I don't see why he always whines. I mean, you should have seen the scene he made when I wanted to wrote about the favelas in Rio: I love him, but he looked like a five year-old throwing a tantrum", and she looks back at him in surprise when he chuckles.

He's laughing, actually laughing, and once the shock has passed, she feels like crying from joy.

Of course, that's the moment Bruce chooses to knock on the door.

When he enters, a slight shock registers at the sight he walks onto, and it makes her want to laugh even more.

"You okay, Lois?"

"Yeah. What's going on?"

"We need you."

She looks back at Clark, and her heart sinks a bit when she sees his face is back to normal – closed, distant. He briefly meets her eyes, though, and that makes it better.

Reluctantly, she stands. "Alright. Bye, Clark."

She's already at the door when he speaks. "Bye."

* * *

"Was that a smile I saw on his face?"

She tries to hold back her own. "I think so."

As they make their way towards Alfred, Bruce looks at her expectantly, silently pushing her to continue.

"I don't know, he – I think he trusts me again. And I don't really know for sure if he actually remember something from his life, but I know he's there, and I know he's not far. Sometimes, it's just in the way he talks, or the way he acts." She knows it doesn't sound like much, but that's more than she could ever had hoped for, and she'll take it. "He doesn't remember, but when I talked about his parents, and I showed them to him, he looked like ...like he was getting confirmation of something he already suspected."

She rests her back againt the hard metal, back to the water in the center of the cave, and shrugs.

"Like he knew this was familiar, but he was trying to remember in what way. And he's not grumpy anymore, which is good," she tries to joke to lighten the mood.

"That's a very good sign", says a deep, soothing voice, and Lois looks to her left to see Diana emerge from the elevator, a gentle smile on her features. "You're doing well. Which is a good thing, because it looks like we won't be able to kill this thing without Superman."

"You won't?"

Given the nature and the terrifying look of that creature, it doesn't really comes as a surprise. Still, it makes her panic a little.

"No," Bruce sighs, eyes dark. "It's just too powerful."

"In this case, isn't he going to try and find Clark? In fact, why isn't he even here yet? It's not like he's not able to find him: he freaking mind controls him."

"Maybe he's not. Otherwise, I don't see why he wouldn't be here. We know he's limited, although we don't know exactly how, otherwise he could have achieved his goal without Clark. Maybe he doesn't have that much power, at least not over a Kriptonians," the Amazon princess reasons.

Alfred nods. "I agree. He seems to need contact, or at least closeness, to properly operates: the fact that we deny him that by keeping Clark here combined with the fact that Clark is still in here, somewhere...that gives us a chance. A real one."

He looks at Lois, and she can't help but smile at him, hope building inside her. Maybe he's right – as impossible as it seems, maybe they're not that helpless, even in front of that alien murderer.

"Maybe,'Bruce says, not as optemistic. "But we won't be able to keep Clark hidden from him much longer. I think the only reason he's not coming to get him and left Earth alone all together is that somthing's keeping him busy putting his big picture plan elsewhere – we're running on luck here, and I don't intend on finding out when we'll run out of it. We need to get ready in way we can, and you, to bring him back."

Not for the first time, Lois is reminded of how much depends on her: it's not only Clark, it's the entire world. She feels it again at the thought, that burden that's settling in her stomach, the one she feels every night when she closes her eyes and thinks of him, the one that won't leave no matter what.

She refuses to let it show, though. She's never backed away when she was needed, and she sure as hell isn't going to start now.

The three of them look at her, and she's glad to see that they seem to trust she can make it, too. " You will - trust me."

She knows she will, because she refuses any of the scenarios in which she can't, and that motivates her more than anything ever could. Still, the confidence that Bruce shows in her once again is so strong that this time, she feels the need to ask him how he can be so sure.

The computers beep, though, and suddenly, there's something more important to take her of. Nodding to Alfred, he turns towards the Batmobile, Diana already on his heels.

"Looks like we're heading East."

Taking a deep breath, Lois watches them leave.


	2. Chapter 2

Things are good.

Well, as good as they can be given their situation, of course: having the man you love die, then come back only to find out he's under the spell of some alien maniac that made him forgot who he is and wants him to destroy the world isn't _exactly_ how Lois would have wanted it to happen, but hey. She has him back, and that's everything.

He starts smiling at her when she walks in – small, barely visible smiles, not at all like the ones he used to give her, but it still feels amazing. Despite everything, she still tries not to get her hopes too high, too fast, and carefully stops herself from thinking it's because he's starting to care about her again.

It would be too painful if it wasn't true.

Still, they keep making progress, and that's all that matters to her.

* * *

"Someone looks grumpy today," she says, looking over her shoulder as the door closed.

"Apparently, he's having one of his 'obnixious billionnaire days', according to Alfred."

She raises an eyebrow. "There was yelling – I heard. I would have offered my shoulder to cry on, but that would probably have been a little suicidal."

"You're a wise man, Clark Kent."

They both smirk.

* * *

"Well, here's something you don't see everyday."

"Good morning to you too, Lane," he mumbles, and she smiles, gesturing for him to come in.

"Oh, I'm sorry: isn't this the reaction you get everytime you show at one of your reporters' door on a Saturday morning?"

"I wouldn't know that, because I never _do_ that," he glares, and Lois shakes her head at him as she takes the bag of croissants he's handing her. He might call her a handful, but she's certainly not the only one.

As they head towards the kitchen, she notices his eyes subtely running on every surface of the apartment like the sharp investigative journalist that he is – or like a parent checking in on his kid, which right now, she's pretty sure is what he's here for.

Not that she's surprised: she's seen it coming for a while, now.

"So: to what do I owe the pleasure, Perry?," she asks anyway as she takes out a plate and two coffee mugs from the shelves.

Settling on one of the stools, he takes a piece of paper out of his bag, wiggling it before her eyes. "Court call this morning: we got authorization for the Lex Corps documents we were missing. I just picked it up," he finishes, laying it down on the counter.

"And that was so important the editor in chief himself comes here to give it to me?," she asks innocently as she pours them some coffee, not meeting his eyes because she knows she'd laugh. To his credit, he doesn't lose face.

"Since when does a story wait, Lane?"

Smiling, she takes her cup, facing him. "Perry, I'm fine."

"What does this have to do with anything?"

"Oh, come on: the last time you came here, it was after the battle of Gotham," she reminds him, still not able to mutter the words 'Clark' and 'death' in the same sentence. "Cut the crap."

They stare at each other for a moment, and Lois defiantly raises an eyebrow at him. He snorts.

"I'm not going to kill myself or anything," she rolls her eyes, amused, but still touched. "You can relax."

"Yeah, well, the happy attitude could have fooled me," he says, and she suddenly realizes that he _has_ actually considered she could do it. Apparently, it shows. "For your information, it's the attitude a lot of grieving people adopt before throwing themselves off a bridge," he mumbles, eyes briefly stopping on the ring on her left finger.

And they never do that. As close as they are – although none of them would ever admit it – Perry and her don't talk about their feelings, don't even ackowledge them, for the most part. When she lost Clark, he didn't even say anything to her: he just came by and drank whisky with her in front of the TV, not saying a word.

She knows he cares, though, knows he's genuiely worried. So, she takes a sip of her coffee, and smirks.

"Well, I'm not a lot of people. Plus, we both know the Planet would crumble without me."

Rolling his eyes, he snorts again, and she knows he's alright.

* * *

Looking up at her from the floor, Clark pushes up, an half intrigued, half mocking look on his face. "Do you need a hand with that?"

"I'm fine, thanks," she manages, a little out of breath, sending him a glare she doesn't mean. When all of this is over, she _really_ needs to start working out more. "And stop making fun of me, mister Fitness: this is all for you."

"Yeah well, I'm starting to get a little crazy in here. I need to move any way I can," he says as she drops her heavy bag on on the small table in this room. There's no bitterness in his voice, though, none that she hears, anyway, and she clings on to that.

Still, she knows it must be hell for him, and it hurts to see him like that.

 _Not for long, honey – not for long, now._

"I'm sorry," Lois winces, and he shrugs.

"It's not your fault. And it looks like you brought some distraction," he adds with a smile, gesturing towards the bag as he comes to stand next to her. It takes all she has not to close the small, oh so small space there is between them.

"Uh, yeah," she says akwardly, clearing her throat and praying that he doesn't notice his effect on her. "I thought it wouldn't hurt to make that room a little less – "

"Unpersonal?"

"I was going to say boring as hell, but close enough," she chuckles, allowing herself to look up at him. It occurs to her that when she used to tell him he was the most handsome man she's ever seen, it was probably the most accurate thing she's ever said in her entire life.

 _Focus, Lane._

"Ready? So," she keeps going when he nods, opening the huge sport bag. "I brought your favorite books – Plato's _The Republic_ is in there," she starts, handing it to him. "A computer with some of your favorite movies on it, a card game, a pie your mother brought me yesterday," she raises her eyebrows, looking up at him. "And yes, it _is_ amazing."

"Is it the apple one you can't stop talking about?"

"Yep. There are no words, Kent," she only half jokes, and once again, can't help her smile when he laughs. "I also took some of the articles you wrote, two bottles of your favorite beer – don't tell Bruce that – and some clothes and shoes."

"My favorite ones too, I guess?," and Lois looks up to see his eyes on her, a small smile on his lips. Her heart skips a beat.

"Yeah," is all she can manage, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Thanks, Lois. This is great," he says, sincere. "What's this?," he points to the only thing she hasn't talked about.

"Oh," she manages, and wow is she babbling today.

In her defense, this is the one item she has gone back and forth about, not quite sure whether it was a good idea to bring it. "Well, I didn't know if you wanted to see it or not but – it's a scrap book I made you for your birthday," and she watches surprise register on his face.

Picking it up, she hands it to me, and he abandons Plato to take it, hand travelling on the hard cover.

"There's pictures of your childhood I got and made copies of from your mom, the documents and photos I found when I was looking for you, after we first met. Some of your articles, and articles about Superman. And pictures of us, which can be awkward, so it's okay if you don't want to look at it now," she finishes nerviously, painfully aware of how rushed her words are.

For a few seconds that feel like an eternity, he doesn't say anything, and just goes through some of the pages. He takes out a photobooth stripe of them they made in New-York, and stares at it before closing the book.

"Thank you. Again," he chuckles, even though she can swear his heart isn't really in it.

His smile slightly fades, and for a moment, he just looks at her, as if trying to decide something. Lois pretends her heart doesn't sink when he seems to decide against it, and doesn't add anything else.

"You're welcome," she says, throat tight. "Well, I should probably go," even if it's the last thing she wants.

"Now?," he asks, and she can't help the butterflies in her stomach at the look on his face.

Maybe he does need this time with her, too, after all.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I have a meeting with a source – couldn't reschedule."

"It's fine," he smiles anyway. "Don't worry. If I need someone to talk to, Bruce is right behind that door, right?," he deadpans, and Lois chuckles.

"And he's dying to have an heart to heart with you," she smirks, playing along. "See you tomorrow, Clark."

For a moment, she thinks of kissing his cheek goodbye.

She wants to, has wanted to for almost two months now, and the way he's looking at her now, she's pretty he does, too. It vaguely reminds her of when they said goodbye in that military base as Zod came to take him. When afterwards, he saved her, and they stood, impossibly close, in a cornfield back in Smallville. When, months later, he took her home after his first day at the Planet, making it impossible for her not to lean in as he stood in front of her.

Not for the first time, though, Lois has to remind herself that it's not the same. It's not, not yet, and she doesn't even know what this is – what they have. All she knows is that whatever it is, it's still fragile, and she can't afford to take any chances.

So, smiling gently at him, Lois heads for the door, heart twitching when for a second, she sees the same disappointment she feels on his face.

"Lois?," he calls when she's at the door. She turns. "Thank you."

* * *

"Wow," she grins, heart beating a little faster at the sight of him. "You look really good."

His cheeks redden, and at this instant, it's him. Standing there in his dark blue jeans, brown boots and red flannel shirt as he looks away awkwardly at her compliment, it's him – her Clark.

"I don't know about that, but it's certainly more comfortable. Thanks again," he smiles, grateful.

"Don't mention it," she waves her hand as she takes a sit. "So, what did you do today?"

* * *

"So you found all of them?"

Diana smiles. "We did."

"That's great," she smiles as well, opening the door of her car. "Now we just need to find a way to kill a psychic alien monster, and we're good."

Smirking as she gets into her own car, the Amazon releases a rare chuckle.

"I've dealt with men for a hundred years: nothing scare me anymore."

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"What?" she snaps, immediatey regretting it. Closing her eyes, she frowns. "I'm sorry. And no, I don't."

"Are you sure? I feel like I'm a pretty good listener," he jokes, and smiles when she finally chuckles.

"You are," she shakes her head, looking into his eyes a second too long. "I just had to deal with a jackass after work today, that's all."

"Are you hurt?," he immediately asks, eyesbrows furrowing in worry.

"No, nothing like that," she smiles reassuringly. "A so-called reporter was waiting for me in front of the Daily Planet building – he wanted me to reveal Superman's identity, ' _now that he's, you know, dead'_ ," she quotes with her fingers, anger rising again.

"Oh."

"Yeah. He's not the first one, but it's been a while. Plus, Cat pissed me off again today, so I wasn't really in the mood."

"So, what did you do?"

She shrugs. "Nothing. But when he followed me to my car, he accidentally tripped and fell down on his face."

"Of course he did," he chuckles.

"Accidents do happen everyday. So, what were you up to?"

"Reading, mostly." He smiles, "I also went through your scrapbook."

"Yeah?," she says despite herself, suddenly feeling shy.

"Yes. It was amazing - although that picture of me falling off my bike in sixth grade wasn't particularly flattering," he reprimands her with a look, and she smiles.

"I didn't want to put it in there, but your mother insisted, you see," she responds, a serious look on her face. "A defining moment of your teenage years, apparently."

He smiles. "Sure."

* * *

"Hey, I brought Chine - Are you okay?," she frowns, worried, and drops her bags.

"Hello to you too," he tries to smile, but Lois doesn't miss the pained look that settles on his face for a second. He quickly regains control, but it's too late: she's seen it. "I'm fine. How was your day at the Senate today?"

"Clark, I'm serious: you don't look so good."

"I swear - everything's okay."

She doesn't believe him, not for a minute, but before she can add anything, he speaks again. "But I did have a pretty boring day, so I really need you to start talking. Plus, the food smells great," he jokes, not reassuring her in the least. He seems to read her mind. "Lois, I promise - I'm okay."

He looks at her with that look and small smile he always puts up when he wants her to think there's nothing to worry about, but after a few seconds, it's his time to frown.

"Are you, though?," and she tilts her head to the side, surprised. "You seem a little...sad."

"What? No, I'm not," she shakes her head, hoping he wouldn't notice her lie.

He does.

"Don't you want to talk about it?," he asks softly, and she looks up. The fact seems to pain him, just like every time he's seen her hurt or down before, and that makes her smile.

He's always been incredibly empathic, but with her, it's like it physically pains him, too.

"It's nothing. I just - I saw your mom today," she finally admits quietly.

"Oh" is all he says, immediately understanding. "Is she okay?"

"She is, yeah," Lois smiles. "Her boss is pissing her off lately, but otherwise, she's fine."

"I'm sorry you have to lie to her," he apologizes, sincere. "I know it must be hard – especially considering how close you two are."

"It's not your fault," she shrugs. "It's just getting harder, that's all. She misses you – a lot. She doesn't say anything to me; I think she wants to protect me or something. But she does."

She doesn't mention that time she arrived at the farm, and pretended not to notice his mother's red eyes as she came out to welcome her. She doesn't mention that when she comes to visit in Metropolis, she can see her from the corner of her eyes wandering about in the apartment, fingers ghosting over the photographs of her son settled all over.

She doesn't, because she knows that Clark cares again, and that knowing that the woman who raised and loves him would break his heart even more than it already is.

"Don't worry," she smiles, breaking his train of what she knows are guilty thoughts – something that, as painful as it is to see, is yet another proof that whatever grasp Darseid has on him is coming to an end. "It will be over soon. And until then, I'll look after her."

Looking at her with that look that turns her insides into putty, Clark smiles.

"I seem to always be in your debt, Miss Lane."

* * *

"Favourite colour."

"Blue."

"Beatles or Rolling Stones?"

"Beatles."

"Football or basketball?"

She rolls her eyes. "Neither," and he chuckles, amused "Despite your best efforts".

"Chocolate or strawberry?"

"How can you even ask something like that," she says, feigning disgust. "Chocolate, Smallville – _always_."

"Favourite director?"

"Mhm...I don't know, Scorsese?"

"Batman or Wonder Woman?"

Lois gaps for a second, and when he smiles, apparently proud of himself, she has trouble containing her own grin. "You know they can hear us."

"Hey, hate the game, not the player," he shrugs, cocky.

"Fine: Alfred. And yes, it is a valid answer – next."

Clark laughs, and the butterflies in her stomach wake again. Damn him and those stupid dimples.

"Favourite subject in school?"

"History."

"Favourite president?"

"Obama. And Washington, and Kennedy."

"Beer or wine?"

"Wine."

"Favourite co-worker." She gives him a blank look. "Second, then."

"Jenny."

"Thing you're most afraid of?"

"Lombard when he's drunk," she deadpans. "He turns into a hugger, and just – _no._ "

"Favourite holiday?"

"Christmas."

"Favourite childhood memory?"

"Christmas with my mom."

"Thing only I know about you?" She shakes her head at that, doing her best to keep a smitten smile out of her face as he looks at her with that devastingly charming smirk.

"There's not just one of those," she says, rolling her eyes for show. "But I'm guessing you want one of the embarassing ones?"

"Of course," he nodds, faking seriousness.

Crossing her arms, she sighs.

"Fine: I love reality TV," she admits against her will. "And the first time you walked out on me watching it, you wouldn't stop making fun of me even though I jumped on your back and told you to cut it out. For _days_."

Which, of course, he does again, head thrown back as he laughs, the sound music to her ears – even though right now, there's no way she's letting him know that. "Oh, shut up, Smallville."

* * *

Smiling when he looks up at her, Lois takes a seat, arms crossed to shield her from the frizzy air.

"It looks like things went good today," he says softly.

"Yeah, they did," she nods, pit of her stomach warming like a teenager girl at the thought of his Kryptonian smile and sparkling blue eyes. "It's really him, Alfred," she admits, confident, and he smiles. "I know it is, and I'm pretty sure he knows it, too. Sometimes - "

Sighing, she shakes her head, frustrated. "Sometimes, I feel like he remembers. Maybe not everything, but there are more and more times when he seems like he's about to admit something to me, but always decides against it."

"Then he's simply not ready yet," he says wisely. "Give him some time: what he's going through can't be easy. And give yourself more credit," the old man adds, and she looks up at him. "You're doing everything you possibly can: whether we can achieve what we need to in time doesn't depend on you."

So suddenly it unsettles her, and for the first time in a while, now, Lois feels the need to cry.

She's not like that, certainly not in front of other people, but the comforting and reassuring words of Alfred, along with a pressure she carries despite her own will and the emotional weigh of it all – it's a lot, even for Lois Lane herself.

"I really miss him," she admits quietly, trying with all she has to swallow down the tears. "I know technically, he's right here," she explains, eyes on the small room at the end of the cave. "But I really need him to come back."

His hand comes to cover hers, and he smiles.

"And he will – thanks to you, he will. And then, we'll have to endure him and master Wayne bikering about every little thing," he rolls his eyes, and she laughs. "Now, do you have anything planned this evening, Miss Lane?"

"No, actually" she smiles as she wipes the corner of her eyes. "But I'm craving Italian, and it's about time I buy you dinner. Tempted?"

"Very. Master Wayne should be here any minute now: after that, we can go and talk about anything but superheroes and aliens threats."

Lois chuckles. "Deal."

* * *

"I uh – I read your new article today," he admits, almost embarassed.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It was really good."

She beams.

* * *

Eleven weeks in, and things couldn't be more different from when he was brought back to her again.

Not only does he talk to her, they have conversations about everything, from the upcoming elections (" _I'm telling you, in this case, it's atually a good thing you have amnesia: the past of that jerk makes me want to throw up. I can't believe he has a shot of actually becoming President!"_ ) to Bruce perpetual scowl – something that he comes to find out, and unsurprisingly doesn't really like (" _Thanks for taking my side in there, Lois." "Hey, don't blame me – smile more",_ and she sees Diana smirk at that).

He tells her about the books he's read, and spent an entire Saturday presenting her the theology studies and theories he was so interested in. They play cards – and, as usual, he kicks her butt. He waits for her to drink the beer, handing her the second one when she arrives, drained, a Friday evening. They bicker, they laugh, and sometimes, it's like before. She thinks he finally accepted that he had a life before all that, and that he was somebody else, somebody wonderful at that, and that all he was led to believe were just lies.

One night, they watch a movie together. He picks one they both really liked the first time they saw it, and Lois' dying to know if he did it because he remembers. She doesn't ask, though, because once again, she doesn't want to push him.

But she'll have to, eventually.

As much as she wants them to have all their time, and to do it on their own time, she knows that this isn't a simple case of memory loss: in the end, they'll have to figure out if Darkseid still has an hold on him. If he's still a potential danger, or if he can help them taking that atrocity down.

They'll have to figure out if Superman still exists – for his sake, and the entire world's.

For now, she thinks as she risks a glance at him sitting next to her, his blue eyes focused on the screen, she'll just enjoy being with him.

* * *

"What's wrong?"

He's pale. He always has been, ever since he's been down here, and after the incident that occurred before, he's been fine, but today, he seems worse – way worse. Forehead shining with sweat, his head is thrown back on the cushions, his eyes closed.

On instinct, Lois moves to sit next to him.

"Nothing, I'm – I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You're white as a sheet, you're shaking," and she feels panic raise in her chest.

She moves his hand away from his forehead, and cups his face, her own hearbeat rising at the feeling: he's cold. So cold. "Oh, God – I told them the Kryptonite will do damage on the long term. We're getting you out of here. _Now._ "

"Lois, it's okay - "

She's already gone though, opening the door they already unlocked as she leaps forward.

"Help me, we need to get him out," she manages, voice slightly shaking. The three of them are already walking towards her, grave expressions on their faces.

"We can't do that," Bruce says, voice tense. "You know it's too dangerous."

"I don't care! Just look at him," she gestures towards the room where Clark's still struggling, eyes closed and his entire body tense. "He's - "

"It's happened before," he hisses, and Lois's head snaps back towards him, surprised. Her eyes fly to Alfred, then Diana, and the fact that neither of them seems surprised by what he's just said wakes up a growing anger in her stomach.

Unphased, he continues. "He always end up feeling better, so just give him some time," and she glares at him before focusing on Clark again. She'll deal with them later – for now, his safety is all that matters.

"I'm not leaving him in here. He's dying, and I won't let that happen: I'm getting him out."

Furious, she moves to turn around, but he puts his hand on her arm, trying to hold her back. "Lois, no."

She shoves it back. "Get off me!"

"Bruce," she hears Diana say behind her, probably stopping him from intervening again.

Good. She knows it would probably worsen things, in the end, but if she has to slap him to make him see reason and save Clark, she'll do it – Bat vigilante or not.

She enters the room, and for the first time, doesn't close it behind her. Putting her arm around his chest, she helps him get up, and her panic only grows when he has trouble simply standing. She hopes he'll be able to walk, because as much as she wants to, she just can't carry him.

"Come on, Clark, it's not a long way," she whispers, and she can see he's really struggling to make it. "Come on."

As they go through the door, Bruce looks like he wants to stop her dead on her tracks again, but Diana puts her hand on his shoulder, soft but firm.

"Let her through."

"It's -"

"Master Wayne, he needs to get out."

He snorts, enraged, and turns his back as Diana comes to help them. She brings his arm around her neck, and Lois almost releases a sigh of relief.

He winces as they settle him against one of the cave's wall, far enough from his Kryptonite prison so he can properly breathe again, sweat perling on his face. His eyes are still closed, he's breathless, and Lois' about to go insane.

That can't happen. Not again.

Her fingers come to frame his face once more, and her thumbs gently run on his cheekbones before one of her hands move to his jaw, his neck. It vaguely occurs to her that she's subsconsciously doing what she used to do to soothe him, long before all that madness happened to them. "Just breathe," she whispers. "Breathe."

Eventually, his breathing finally slows down, and Lois feels him relax. She's so relieved she feels like an actual weigh has been lifted off her chest.

"Clark?"

A few seconds pass, and then he finally open his eyes, incredible baby blues looking up at her. "Hey, there," she chuckles.

"Hi," he weakly smiles, too, and she's never wanted to kiss him more than in this moment.

"Are you okay?," comes a voice behind them before neither of them can add anything.

His gaze turns towards Diana, but Lois' doesn't. He nods. "Good. Well, I guess we'll have to improvise from now," the Amazon continues, already deep in thought. "Alfred, do you think you could lower the doses even more?"

"I could, but I don't think they will be much use, then."

"Maybe we could alternate: one day with the Kryptonite, one day without."

Lois is so busy listening to what they're saying, eyes flying from Bruce to Alfred to Diana that she doesn't notice Clark's hand moving until he has grabbed her own, fingers slowly coming to interlace with hers.

Her head snaps towards him, his eyes closed again as he rests his head against the cold wall. He doesn't say anything, doesn't try to flee, or fight – though she doesn't think he would have the energy for it, anyway: he just stays there, hand tightly squeezing hers.

She squeezes back.

She doesn't listen to much of the rest of the conversation, after that, her gaze fixed on him, her mind unable of focusing on anything but his skin, his breathing, his face. Him.

Clark.

"What if he stays with me?"

Lois feels the eyes of everyone on her, but she only stares back as Clark looks at her, something close to confusion behind his eyes.

"What do you mean, stay with you?," Bruce asks, speaking everyone's mind.

"Home," she says, more to Clark than to him, before finally turning her eyes back to Diana as she gets up, facing them. "In Metropolis," and if the situation was any different, she might have laughed at Bruce's expression. It really wasn't a good day for his nerves.

"What - "

"Clearly he can't stay in this thing anymore, and in this case, all the security you have here is useless, so our apartment is as good a place as any. A better one, in fact: it's familiar to him. There's only two places that can help him remember, and this is one of them. _This_ is certainly not helping," she gestures around them.

"And how exactly are you planning on stopping him, if he tries to escape?" The level of sarcasm is unreal.

"Well, I'm not exactly asking, Bruce," she says defiantly.

"I won't."

Gulping down the retort he was going to throw, Bruce looks at him. Everyone does – nobody talks.

Not without effort, Clark gets up taking support on the metal bars, and Lois lauches forward to help him stand. He smiles at her, then faces the two superheros in front of him. "I promise, I won't try to escape, or contact Darkseid – you have my word."

* * *

He keeps his word.

He doesn't try to escape – he stays with her.


	3. Chapter 3

They arrive at the apartment late in the night. It's Bruce's idea, of course, although it's understandable: the darker it is, the least chance there is of someone seeing – and recognizing – Superman.

Still, just as Lois has pointed out just to annoy him, they _were_ in a tinted glass car, and with a beard and a baseball cape, nobody would ever realize it was him.

Lois gives him the grand tour, and it's the strangest thing: they've built this home together, more him than her, in fact, and here she is, showing him around like he's a stranger, explaining to him that the bathtub can sometimes be capricious and that one of the light bulbs in the bedroom doesn't work anymore. He was supposed to fix that, before – before everything happened.

As silly as it was, she could never bring herself to do it afterwards.

He listens, nodding politely, his eyes lingering on the photographs all over the apartment – photographs of his parents, her mother and sister, even one with Perry, the day she got her first Pulitzer. And them – mostly them.

As they walk around, Lois also feels like his eyes are more on her than on the rooms she's showing him, something that's confirmed everytime time she dares look up, and always meets his eyes.

The pit of her stomach gets warmer with each glance, and simultanuously makes the shyness that hasn't left her since Bruce dropped them off grow. She doesn't know why she suddenly feels so shy, but she's pretty sure that if she thinks about it, she can find multiple perfectly good reasons.

Apparently, she's not making a very good job at hiding the strangeness she feels.

"I'm sorry - this must be really strange for you," he smiles apologetically, and it's so sweet, so Clark it's enough to make her smile, too.

"It's okay, don't worry." She ponders for a second, then decides to speak her mind. "I'd much rather have you here than on this dark cave, anyway. For your sake _and_ mine, to be honest: I swear, a couple more weeks down there and I'd have become claustrophobic. I mean, I know he's going for the Bat thing and all, but going for the same living conditions? Come on."

He laughs at that, looking at her the same way he used to, the way he's been looking at her more and more over the past few weeks, and she chuckles as well.

Lois doesn't fully understand what happened, what's happening, and certainly has no idea what's going to happen next, but she's at home with Clark, and that's the kind of hapiness she thought she had lost that terrible day when she kneeled, his lifeless body in her laps and two superheroes by her side.

"Well, thanks for coming to visit me everyday despite the depressing settings. And for having me here."

She wants to tell him that it's his home, too, and that besides, she needs him to be here more than he does, that she's dreamed about having him there ever since he was taken away. Instead, she settles for a smile. "My pleasure, Smallville."

Pushing off the counter, she clears her throat.

"There's bathroom stuff on the bed for you. You know, towel, toothbrush - those kind of things. I'm sorry, there's no guest room, so you'll have to use our - the main bedroom."

She knows he notices her slip, but he doesn't say anything, and simply smiles a little. Butterflies ensue.

"Thanks, but the couch will be fine, Lois."

"What? No – I'm not the one who just almost passed out after a month in a Kryptonite prison," and he chuckles.

"Yeah, well, you're not the only one who can be buttheaded, either. Do you mind if I take a shower first?"

"Of course not." She moves into their bedroom to grab what she has prepared for him, and smiles when she hands it to him. "Here."

As he walks out of the room, she speaks before she has the time to stop herself. "Hey Clark," and he turns around.

"Yeah?"

"You're not going to leave, are you?" _Leave_ _me_ , she doesn't say. Holding her breath, Lois looks up. He's looking right at her.

"No," he smiles gently. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

She can't sleep.

Of course she can't: from her day at the Planet to the emotional roaller coaster that followed, she's completely exhausted, and yet -

It's the first time in more than a year that Clark's been home, and she's so excited, and confused, and worried, her entire body is vibrating. Turning her head to look at the nightstand, Lois closes her eyes in frustration when sees it's closing on two on the morning. "Damnit."

She suddenly hears a quiet, small chuckle coming from the living, and her eyes immediately open wide.

"I'm guessing you can't sleep either, then."

She smiles, biting her lip, frustration suddenly forgotten.

"Oh no, I totally can. I just thought it would be rude to leave you to be the only one struggling: I'm a good host, you know."

"That's very considerate, thank you," he chuckles again. "I saw a battleship box somewhere. Tempted?"

"Coming."

* * *

When she wakes up, it's to the smell of fresh coffee and frying eggs. It takes her a minute to understand what's happening, and when she does, a slow smile grows on her face.

Stretching among her sheets, Lois takes her time to open her eyes, enjoying the morning light on her face and the fact that standing in their kitchen, much like he used to every morning, Clark's cooking them breakfast.

As she leaves the bedroom, she bites back a grin at the familiar sight of him, back to her as he busies himself in front of the pan. He turns around when he feels her, and she hopes once again that he doesn't hear the skip of her heartbeat.

"Good morning."

"Hi. You didn't have to do that," she gestures towards the table, arms around her chest to close her blouse.

"I'm a giver," he jokes with a smirk, and Lois chuckles. "Plus, your cooking kind of scare me." She glares, and his own laugh tells her he knows she doesn't mean it.

"Ahah. You know, the little deal we have doesn't say I can't kick your ass, Smallville," and he looks very proud of himself. The idiot.

She forgives him as soon as he brings their plates, though, the smell heavenly.

"Thanks," she says as she takes her seat before focusing on her food. She didn't realize how starved she was until now.

"You're welcome. Not that I don't appreciate your company, but don't you have to work?," he asks, looking at the clock.

"I took a few days off. I had to lie and say that your mother needed me, because otherwise, Perry would already be at my door," she rolls her eyes.

"Considering that you've probably not taken a sick day in your entire life, it's understandable," he raises his eyesbrows, making a point. "But thank you."

"No problem. I can write from here, anyway," she smiles reassuringly.

"Is there any other conditions Bruce fixed for me staying here?"

Lois looks up at that, but he isn't mad. Nor surprised, from what she can tell. He shrugs. "I saw him talk to you before we left the manor. Plus, it would have been surprising if he hadn't."

"You didn't listen?"

"My mother raised me better than that, didn't she?," and she smiles.

"She'd be very proud. And to answer your question, there was only one: that you stay here, without leaving, and that I stay with you as much as possible." _Which I'm more than happy to do._

Clark nods.

"Fair enough." Hesitating, he looks down, playing with his food. "You know I really won't, though, right?," he looks back up at her.

His eyes stare at her, questionning and, if she's right, hopeful. "Leave, I mean. I intend to keep my promise to you."

"I know that," she reaches for his arm, not bothering to stop herself. His eyes instantly fly to her fingers, then at her again. "I do trust you. But you know how he is," she adds, annoyed. Clark chuckles.

"It's okay. I can't blame him, really: I just want to make sure you know," and a warm feeling takes over at his words. She smiles shyly back at him, and Lois wonders when was the last time she felt this giddy.

After a few seconds, he cocks his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing. "He really didn't say anything else?"

"Well, he did try to give me a kryptonite weapon," she admits, focusing back on her pancakes. "I told him to fuck off."

He laughs at loud.

* * *

"What? No, I'm fine," she chuckles, guilt creeping under her skin. "Don't worry."

From the corner of her eye, she can see him look at her, and doubles her efforts to sound cheerful. "Mmhm. Yes, I promise, I'm not starving myself: my chinese take-out place takes very good care of me," she teases, amused despite the circumstances when she gets the scolding she expected from that.

"I know...It's just that the story I'm on is taking a lot of my time, lately. I swear, when everything's over, I'm heading straight to Smallville."

Smiling as she nods, she sees Clark's head dropping, his attention not at all on the TV he's pretending to watch.

"Okay. Take care, Martha – I'll see you soon." Smiling, she hangs up, once again feeling like the most despicable human on the planet for lying to her like that – her, who had always been here for Lois, especially since Clark's...left.

Even with her back to him, he seems able to read her like a book.

"I'm sorry you're forced to lie to her because of me, Lois."

Bringing a smile to her face for his sake, she turns to face him.

"It's okay – and it's not your fault, anyway."

"Well - "

"It's not," she cuts him off before he can get into one of his self loathing speeches. "Now," she continues with a lighter tone she's happily surprised she can pull off. "Push play, Kent: I want to see if Clooney and Pitt actually manage to rob that casino."

Settling on the couch next to him, she smiles up at him, the sadness on her chest easing a little when he smiles back.

* * *

At one point – and as it was bound to happen – Lois leaves the appartment.

She still hasn't got back to the Planet yet, working via e-mail and Skype when necessary, but she does need to, if only to buy some groceries and oh, take some much needed air so she doesn't go crazy.

"I feel bad leaving you all jailed up in here, though," she winces as she takes her purse, but he just smiles reassuringly.

"Don't worry about me, I'm fine: compared to where I was two weeks ago, this," he gestures around the apartment, "is paradise. Plus, you're looking out the window like one of my mother's pie is out there: it's time," he deadpans. She sticks her tongue at him.

"Alright, I'm off. Do you need anything in particular?"

"No, thanks – oh wait: beer would be nice, actually," and she chuckles.

"Don't worry, it's on the top of my list. See you later, Smallville."

And so she goes, stopping by the market, the bank, some shops, taking care of not wandering in neighbourhoods she could run into Perry or Jenny.

She's not worried, not in the least, because she trusts him – she really does. Still, as she walks the small distance separating the elevator from their apartment, a slight displeasing feeling rises in the pit of her stomach, a voice sounding a lot like Bruce's in her head.

What if he _did_ left, after all?

But before the dark thought can even settle in, the door opens to a smiling Clark, and she has to stop herself from chuckling in relief.

"Need a hand with those bags?," he says as he easily takes them from her, and she thanks him. "So: how is the rest of the world doing?"

* * *

Every age its pleasures – Lois knows that. She understands that, and understands that teenagers need to party and have fun.

Still, right now, she really hates that Foreman kid upstairs for taking advantage of his parents' absence.

She's thinking about knocking herself out – or better yet, knocking _them_ out - when she hears a slight moan from the living room. She freezes, ear out.

It could just be frustration, just like her. It could, and it probably is.

But he's just spent a month in a cell made of deadly material to him, has almost died because of it, and even though it's been two weeks, the memory of his pale face as he laid on his cell still haunts her. She hears him again, and immediately gets up.

Feet bare, Lois silently makes her way into the moonlight basked living room. "Clark?"

A definitively pained groan is all the answer she gets, and she hurries at his side to find him laid down, body tense as his hand covers his face.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he says, managing a pained smile.

"You didn't. What's going on?", and he winces. On instinct, she moves her hand to his cheek, and, with a frown, to his forehead. "You're burning up."

"It's nothing - I'm fine."

"No, you're not."

"It's not the first time," he says as she gets up, and heads to the kitchen.

Filling the glass bowl with cold water, she rolls her eyes. "Why do you people seem to think that makes me feel better?" she mumbles, both annoyed and worried.

"Get up."

As she gets to him, grabbing a small towel on her way, Lois doesn't hesitates for a second and sits down on the couch, settling the bowl on the table next to her – a table, it occurs to her, where used to be a picture of the two of them. She pretends not to notice it's now on the coffee table.

She settles herself in a lotus position on the end of the couch and looks up at him, his face now a mix of confusion and pain. Raising an eyebrow, she nods towards her lap.

"Are you waiting for an hand-written invitation, Smallville?"

"I'm - "

She puts a cushion on the empty space between her legs, patting it expectantly.

"Come on, let's talk a little."

Frowning, he does as he's told, and despite the circumstances, Lois smiles at the sight of him, eyes closed, cuddled so close to her. Allowing herself a moment of weakness, she lets her hands gently settle on both sides of his face. He relaxes a little, and her fingers run on the skin between his brows that's now a little more smooth.

A rush of tenderness runs through her, and she reluctantly pulls away and reaches for the towel, presses it against the recipient and brings the wet cloath on his forehead.

"That's a trick your mother gave me," she explains, letting her hands travel between his curls, barely holding a sigh at the forgotten sensation. "Whenever the noises and everything else get too much, you used to focus on her voice – and then mine. It helped you turned down the world. The cold towel is just a desperate attempt to bring your fever down."

"And the hair thing?" he mumbles, and she smiles at how relaxed his voice sounds.

"The hands in your hair is just because you have a weird thing about that," and they both chuckle.

She keeps talking about nothing and everything, voice soft, and after a while, she thinks he's fallen asleep again (she tells herself she keeps gently combing his soft dark hair so he can keep sleeping peacefully, but she knows better). At some point, however, his lips move again, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Thank you, Lo."

Freezing, she stares at him, heart beating faster at the nickname she hasn't heard for months.

* * *

The day after, Lois doesn't know what to do.

She's supposed to finally go back to the Planet – something that, despite loving every moment with Clark, she did miss – but now that she knows he remembers, or at least has some memories of their life, of _his_ life in there somewhere -

The problem, though, is that he doesn't seem to remember what he said last night.

Either that, or he doesn't realize that him calling her that is such a big deal. Which _so_ is.

"Are you sure you're okay?", he asks for the second time that morning, and she snaps herself out of her reverie to see the worried expression on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just - thinking about how I'm gonna sell my next article to Perry, that's all."

Hiding behind her coffee, she tries to smile.

* * *

"Have you heard?" he says as he comes in, not bothering to waste time on greetings.

Not that she can blame him, this time.

"Yeah," she says, smiling a little at Diana as she comes in as well. Closing the door, Lois sees the half unsure, half awkward look that pass between the two men as they eventually nod at each other. In another situation, she would have probably laughed.

"The whole world has, by now," Clark growls, the same dark expression he's had since they saw it on his face. "He's all over the news. Have you managed to locate him?"

"Not yet," Diana answers. "Alfred's still on it, but it's harder than we had thought. We're positive he's on Earth, but we do not have his exact position."

"And we're still trying to figure out how to take him down when we find him. They're five of us," Bruce adds, looking straight at the man who he used to hate. "But we could really use one more."

Clark looks at her then, and Lois nods, letting him know she's with him no matter his decision. His eyes on her, she thinks he undertands.

Turning back to the Bat, he keeps his head high and speaks, voice firm and determined.

"Let's get to work, then."

* * *

And so they do.

Their apartment quickly turns into the Trinity's working quarters (they don't like either of those terms, but the look on their faces whenever she brings it up is just too good for her to stop), but Lois doesn't care.

They have a job to do.

* * *

In the days that follow, they're both knee deep in work. She's swampt up in the corruption scandal she's close to reveal, and he barely stops to eat and sleep himself, but among all that craziness, they still find a few moments to talk. His brow furrows in worry every time she asks him about the progress they're making, but she has faith.

Superman never let them down – he won't start now.

With all that going on, Lois hasn't really found the occasion to talk to him about the whole nickname. Well, not the occcasion – the courage, really. She keeps telling herself that now is not the time because he's already so stressed, and he has much better things to do, but the truth is that she's just terrified.

Terrified that it was just in her head, and that it doesn't mean anything. Terrified that he doesn't actually remember, and that he never will. Terrified that he does, and that it doesn't matter much to him, because maybe _she_ doesn't mean as much anymore.

They've fallen back into a familiar routine, now – she doesn't want to do or say anything that might ruin that.

Lois is taken out of her reverie when he speaks.

"I wonder how many more there is out there." Her head turns towards him as they lean side by side against the metallic bar of the staircase, his eyes still on the unusually clear sky, lost somewhere amongst the stars as the lights coming from the dining room behind them light up half of his face.

"How many what?" There's a beat, and although his expression stays neutral, she sees his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Monsters that are coming to threaten Earth because of me."

He doesn't say anything else, he's not even looking at her, but Lois can see the guilt, the anguish he feels, and her heart aches for him.

"Hey, it's not your fault," she says, voice soft but firm. "It's all Luthor's doing. He's the one who called that thing here, not you."

He looks down, and, following his gaze, she realizes that her hand is on his, his skin warm under her fingers. He smiles, then, a soft smile as he looks back at her, something awfully close to tenderness behind his eyes. Blushing like a teenage girl, she's about to withdraw her hand when he catches it.

"Did you change your mind?" he finally says, eyes and thumb travelling on her knuckles. Despite the butterflies in her stomach, she frowns, taken by surprise.

"About what?"

"The first time you came to see me at the Wayne manor, you had a ring," and just like that, her heartbeat skyrockets. "You haven't worn it since."

Lois doesn't say anything, because she simply doesn't know what to say. Doesn't how to speak for a second, really. She can't believe he saw it – can't believe he paid attention to it, and actually remembered. And now -

Before she can keep panicking and stupidly gaping, he speaks again. "I'm really sorry I didn't get to give it to you myself," he says, sincere.

That doesn't mean anything. It doesn't.

With all she has told him about them, it's only logical that he would know that he was the one that intended to give her the ring. It's not like there had been any other man, after he was gone. So no, it doesn't mean anything, and her brain has to register that and stop her heart from growing with an unbearable hope.

Except the way he's looking at her makes it impossible.

"I'm also sorry I left you alone all those months. I'm sorry you had no one to save you from your own terrifying cooking," he chuckles, but he pauses for a second, then. Almost like he's trying to gather the courage to mutter his next words, giving the slight, brief frown on his face, and Lois thinks she's about to faint.

Looking back up at her, he continues. "I'm sorry I wasn't here to nuzzle you awake the way you like to be. I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you put on that blue dress you always have trouble with. I'm sorry I wasn't there to take you flying whenever it got too much – which probably happened more often than I'd like," and she's crying now. She can't really bring herself to care.

This can't be happening. This can't – it's the only thing she has wanted everyday since that terrible one, and it just isn't possible.

And yet, she knows it is. Looking at him, she just knows.

It vaguely occurs to her that this isn't at all like she expected – dreamt – it would be.

No, that's not it – it's exactly as she imagined it. He's close, so close she can feel his nice and familiar warmth. He's looking at her the way he did when he told her she was his world, the way he had always looked at her, with so much tenderness in his eyes she could drown in it. He's alive and well and Clark. The real Clark.

So no, it's not that it's not like she expected it. Lois realizes that it's just that part of her had simply stopped believing she would ever get him back.

"Why didn't you tell me?," she eventually manages after what seems like an eternity, not sure if she's happy, or mad, or about to full on sob. Probably all of the above.

"Because I don't know how this is going to end up, Lo," he simply says. "For all we know, Darkseid can find me again – take control again. I didn't want to get your hopes up, because if that happens, you'll have to live through all of that again, and - "

She doesn't let him finish, though, because she realizes that it just doesn't matter, and she throws herself at him, arms snaking around his neck to bring him close, as close as she possibly can.

For a second, he's too stunned to reciprocate, and then she feels his arms around her body as he hugs her back, his head burrying in her neck. He breathes her in, his grip tight, and Lois chuckles, her fingers holding to his shirt for dear life.

God.

"I don't care, you idiot," she finally whispers against his skin. "I just want you."

Her hands move to his hair, and Lois closes her eyes at this forgotten closeness, that closeness that she's been craving for ever since he's been gone, and even more ever since he's been back.

She doesn't know how long they stay here, her feet barely touching the ground as he holds her up, but at one point, she needs more. Pulling away only slightly, she puts her hands on his cheeks, nuzzling him with a smile. When she opens her eyes, he's already looking at her, that way that makes her feel like she's his oxygen, his sun and everything else he'll ever need.

Smiling at her, Clark closes the distance and kisses her, lips as soft as she remembers, and Lois can't help the small noise that escape her at the contact.

If it's cliché to say that times stops, she doesn't care, because it does.

Her fingers fumble all over his face and hair, then, desperate to hold him close, much like the first time they ever kissed, and she can't remember the last time she's felt such a thirst - which was probably his doing, too.

He chuckles, at one point, and she can feel his laugh through his chest. "Lois, breathe," he chuckles, pulling back a little, and starts genuinely laughing at what she eventually realizes is probably the look on her face.

Clark pecks her again and again as she starts breathing again – wow, she really _did_ forget to do that - and she smiles, closing her eyes and tightening her arms as much as she can around his neck.

"I did wear it," she suddenly blurts out, desperate to let him know. "I really did. But I didn't want to confuse you, so I figured I shouldn't let you see it – but I swear, I wore it. Everyday," she mumbles against his neck.

Holding on to his shirt, she sighs in relief, from comfort and from the million others emotions she's feeling, her chest almost exploding when he drops a gentle kiss on her neck. "I love you."

"I love you," Clark whispers against her ear, his large hands warm on her back. She doesn't know how long they stay like that. The world could stop turning, for all she cares.

She's exactly where she wants to be.

"Would you marry me?"

 _That_ , however, makes her eyes fly open. Freezing for a second, Lois slowly breaks the embrace, heart beating like crazy as her hands clench his shoulders to steady herself. Lucky for him he doesn't suffer human physical pain.

"What?"

"I do realize the timing's not exactly ideal, but - I never asked," he smiles shyly. "And I've never wanted anything more."

Oh. So this night _can_ get more intense, after all. Jesus.

"So."

Speachless, Lois looks at him as he drops on his knee, both hands sliding on her left one, his eyes never leaving hers. Everything is going so, so fast, part of her isn't even quite grabbing the reality of it all, but she is chuckling now, uncontrollably at that, and it doesn't matter.

"Lois Joanne Lane. I don't think you'll ever realize how much I need you, or how much I love you," he starts, and although there's a small smile on his face, the seriousness, the determination, the sincerity in his voice takes her breath away.

 _Don't faint Lois – just don't_. "But you're my entire world," and he's squeezing her hand, and she squeezes back, because she can't talk right now, and even if she could, she wants him to keep talking.

"So would you forgive me for being idiotic enough to uh, briefly forget you," he winces, making her laugh, "and be my wife?"

He presents her the ring she only now realises he's taken off her finger, and, as he looks up at her, there's not one single doubt in her mind.

"Of course I'll marry you, Smallville."

And, just like that, they're engaged.

She's not aware – or interested in – much except him as they stand here in the warm night, kissing and chuckling and probably looking like two idiots, but it occurs to Lois that maybe, just maybe, there is a God out there – a pretty cool one.

"Bed?," Clark eventually whispers, a little breathless despite his super kryptonian lungs.

Bringing their foreheads together, Lois bites her lip, grinning.

"Bed."

* * *

Afterwards, he carefully collapses on her, head burrying in the crook of her neck and lips slappily brazing over her skin, and Lois smiles as she kisses his hair. She holds on to him again, and, when he shifts on his side, ends up laying against his hard chest, almost giddy.

Her fingers wander over his face, her legs entertwine with his, and she smiles even more when his arms brings her even closer.

"You know, that beard really suits you," she mumbles against his lips.

"Really? I was thinking of getting ride of it, actually."

"Bringing the old Clark back?"

The curves of his lips go up as he leans towards her again.

"Something like that."

* * *

She watches as he slowly breathes, lips slightly parted. She's so close, she can count every one of the long eyelashes resting on those incredible cheekbones of his. Despite her constant movements, his rebellious curls keep falling back on his forehead, just as they always have, but she doesn't get tired of playing with them, just as she always has.

He sleeps on his stomach, deprieving her of the glorious sight of his hairy chest, but the moonlight reflecting on his bare back is just as striking. On instinct, Lois draps the sheets a little higher to cover him better, even though she knows that unlike her, he's immune to the chilly air. Grabbing his hand, she closes her eyes as well.

* * *

"Did the other knew?" she asks out of curiosity, and he looks at her questionningly. "Bruce, Diana, Alfred: did they knew that you remembered things?"

"I think so," he shrugs. "I didn't tell them, but they heard me in my sleep, and at some point, I understood Alfred figured it out. The way he looked at me, or patted my shoulders after one particular nightmare...I could tell he got it. And when I lost it, he came to talk to me – told me it was going to be okay, in the end."

"When did you lose it?," she asks softly.

"A couple of days before I got here, I think. That's when I started to really remember my life: it wasn't just flashbacks anymore, it was more – clear," he finally says, sounding as if he's reliving it.

"What happened?," she asks again, both because she wants to know what he's been through, and because she wants to snap him out of it.

He smiles, almost sadly. "Let's just say that not telling you I remembered you wasn't easy every day," and she feels herself get smaller under his intense gaze. "Even when I just knew you were important, and didn't know why, so I guess it was bound to happen, eventually," and she tries to smile back, suddenly overwhelmed again.

Jeez, what a couple of years they've had.

"Well, I'm glad you could talk to Alfred. Although I'm a bit surprised Bruce didn't have the words to help," she says, sweating irony.

"I know: shocking. Are you mad?," he adds, a little worried.

"What? No, of course not." Reaching to touch his forearm, she gently runs her fingers over it, smiling reassuringly. They share a look, the one where they speak without speaking, wordlessly understanding one another.

Looking back at her computer, she can't resist teasing him a little nonetheless. "Although I _would_ have love to know sooner. I mean, you do know I had to stop myself from jumping on you everytime I crossed that door, right?"

He laughs, and, getting up, drops a small kiss on the top of her head as he walks behind her.

"Then I'll most certainly make up for it when you're done with your article, miss Lane," he whispers in her ear, his voice and the brush of his fingers against her neck enough to wake goosebumps all over her body.

Biting her lips, Lois blushes and focuses to finish said article – as fast as possible.

* * *

"Nice shave," Diana smirks as they come in.

She knows it's ridiculous, but from her tone and look alone, Lois feels like the Amazon princess knows they're – well, Lois and Clark again.

Which is impossible, of course: she can't be that good. Right?

"Thanks," he smiles a little, shaking the hand of her companion before closing the door behind them. "Alfred."

"Good morning, Clark. How are you feeling?"

"Good, thank you. You?"

"A little tired from having to supervise Batman all night," he rolls his eyes. "But otherwise fine. So, have you made progress on what we talked about last week?"

As the three of them move to the dining table, already a hundred percent focus despite the early hour, Clark nods, frowning in concentration as he opens his computer.

"I think so," he starts, and, smiling at the sight of them, Lois grabs her bag and jacket.

"Well, I'll let you world savers at it," she says, dropping a small kiss to the butler's cheek before picking up her phone and heading for the front door. "See you tonight, Smallville."

With a last look at Clark's subtle smile, she leaves.

* * *

They do it – they find Darkseid.

* * *

"Okay," she manages, eyes and hands on the red 'S' on his chest. "This is it." And God, how she doesn't want it to be.

Shit - she's panicking. Shit shit shit.

Steping even closer, Clark gently kisses the corners of her mouth, making her look up to see his sweet, reassuring smile. "Don't die," she stupidly blurts out, too stressed out to even think about being embarassed, or to kick his ass for laughing at her.

"I'll try," he says, chuckling.

"I mean it, Clark. I don't care how scary that Darkseid thing is, I swear, if you do this to me again, I'll bring you back myself and make you sorry, because - " He cuts her babbling by drapping his muscular arm around her shoulders and bringing her close, and her words die in a combination of sob and whimper as she burries her face in the crook of his neck.

She holds on to his cape so hard her fingers hurt.

"I'm coming back, Lo," he whispers for only her to hear. "I promise – this time, I'm coming back to you."

* * *

As they watch them leave, eyes towards the sky, Lois feels Alfred's hand on her shoulder.

"It's going to be okay, Miss Lane."

Nodding, she takes a second to compose herself before turning to him, a smile on her face. Taking his arm, she heads towards the computers at the end of the cave.

"Let's make sure it is."


	4. Chapter 4

_**One year later**_

"I'm just saying, I think you'll regret it," he says gently, dropping a small kiss on her temple. "And I don't think we can invite the League, and not invite him."

"The League's family now," she argues.

"And he's your father."

Sighing, she drops her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes when she feels his lips against her neck. Dropping her pad and pen somewhere next to the bed, Lois buries herself even more against him, her back to his chest, and wraps his arms tighter around her. With another kiss, Clark puts his hands on her still (mostly) flat stomach.

"Plus, I think it's time to let him know about the upcoming Lane here." She grunts.

"Kent. And can't the baby do it? How about we wait a couple of years, and then we send him with a _'Hey, grandpa!'_ sign. My dad will be over the moon, he'll probably give the baby tons of candies to make up for lost time...I mean, that's just a great day for everyone," and Clark laughs, the sound bringing a smile on her face as well. She loves that laugh.

"It is a pretty good plan," he admits, still chuckling. "But no."

"Please?," she cooes. Making her best doe eyes, she turns into his embrace to face him, and burries her fingers into his dark hair as he flashes her that adorable smile of his. Biting back her own smile, Lois closes the distance and kisses him, his hands warm on the small of her back.

"Still no," he whispers when they separate. Feigning outrage, she props her elbows on his chest and sends him a look, cocking her head to the side.

"You know, I think you should be a little nicer to your very soon to be wife here, Clark."

"And I think I should really meet my father in law at some point. Especially given that with the whole coming back from the dead thing, I really think I have a shot at impressing him," and this time, it's her turn to laugh. He takes advantage of it and rolls them over so he's over her, his face all warm in her neck before he looks up at her again.

"Yeah no, let's save both our lives and not mention the 'I want to spend the rest of my life with Superman' part of it."

He's still smiling, but his gaze suddenly turns ten times more intense, to the point where she feels like a fifteen year-old teenager in front of her crush – again. Damn, she has it bad.

"I can't believe I'm marrying you," he admits quietly, gently, oh so gently pushing a strand of hair off her face.

"Getting cold feet?," she jokes to try and calm the growing warm thing in her chest.

"No," he says, so absolutely sure and sincere, it makes her stomach flips. "I mean I can't believe I finally get to marry you," and oh, he has to stop that: a girl can only handle so much perfect and pretty. She's about to tell him that – again, to cover the butterflies that are just _wild_ – when he speaks again. "Are you really sure?"

"About you?" Smiling, she snakes her arms around his neck. "Yes."

The amount of pride she feels at how big his grin gets at her words is simply ridiculous. _God, Lois_.

"Actually, I was talking about the baby's name – last name. I mean, I really don't mind if - "

"I'm having a little Kent, Smallville: deal with it." He looks at her with awe, and surprise, and love and a million other things in his eyes, and she knows right there that that guy will always be the best choice she's ever made.

Smiling, she brings him down to her and kisses him again, wrapping her legs around him so there's no more space between them. He fervently responds, both hands burying in her her curls as he moves against her, warm and wanting. Her lips travel to his jaw and neck and the spot it met his shoulder, and he growls. Lois smirks: he always makes the best sounds when she does that.

Hands on his chest, she pushes him, and Clark follows her lead and drops on his back. Settling on him, she chuckles at the way his eyes have darkened, and at the way he's trying to control his breathing.

"We - we didn't finish the guest list," he finally manages as she starts unbuttoning his shirt. When she's done, her fingers travel from his neck to his stomach, and Lois smiles as she buries her face in the crook of his neck again.

"We didn't."

" I mean, we should really – we should really get that done."

"Mhm," she purs as she moves to his beautiful face again, kissing his open mouth as his hands snake up under her shirt, waking goosebumbs in their wake before he throws it away. "We really should."

Smiling against his lips, Lois keeps kissing him again and again and again, backing away slightly to look at him as her arms come to frame his face and his bring her as close as they can get.

His hair is a mess, his eyes are blue and sparkling and warm, his lips are doing that pretty grin thing she can't resist, and she's so ridiculously happy and comfortable, it's ridiculous. Shaking her head – because really, how cliché are they? - she grins back as she bends down again.

"You know, I can't wait to marry you either, Clark Kent."


End file.
